


Summer Rain

by bjorn_ironside



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Brother/Brother Incest, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Fire, Fluff and Angst, Hurt feelings, Hvitserk is a bit perverted, Ivar is jealous, M/M, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Ubbe as a lovely brother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:55:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28050510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjorn_ironside/pseuds/bjorn_ironside
Summary: In the world of Hvitserk and Ubbe, many things are not easy and life is often ruthless. But how are the gods supposed to judge when one engages in a forbidden love?
Relationships: Hvitserk & Ubbe (Vikings), Hvitserk/Ubbe (Vikings)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	1. The smell of fire

**Author's Note:**

> I took this story from one of my old accounts and translated it from German into English because I really liked this pairing. :) Feel free to leave me feedback if you like! <3

* * *

**Present - Ubbe**

It didn't take long, maybe a blink of an eye, before the area smelled of burnt flesh. Sickening, snappy, sharp. How often had he smelled it in his life, how often he had seen people burn in this way, whether alive or already dead - it was custom, an ancient tradition.

But in Ubbe, a lot moved in these seconds. Too much. He couldn't stare at the fire for long, and he had to swallow all the time, as if the fire was climbing right down his throat, paralyzing him. Popping his lungs like a malicious rotting abscess. Turn off his body.

He had expected bitter screams; a scream from pain, from the agony of the fire devouring him - but Hvitserk remained strong. When Ubbe finally dared to turn his eyes to the mast where his little brother was about to be burned alive for a moment, he gasped softly. He noticed that Torvi beside him was moving slightly and searching his gaze; but Ubbe just stared into the flames.

He stared at the light and yellowish tongues that were now winding up on Hvitserk’s legs. Stared at the shackles that were so tightly wrapped around Hvitserk’s wrists and body that one could see welts of damp moisture, which were only torn open by the flames and the unbridled heat. They tore the skin open as they tore Ubbe’s heart open, his lungs, when he looked his little brother in the face.

Hvitserk’s face was pale and bloodshot, as it had been all those crazy weeks and months - the drinking, which Ubbe hadn't been able to keep him from, was now taking its toll. The veins in the once deep gray eyes were blood-red, tired, sticky with smoke and soot, and Ubbe bit his lip. It was almost unbearable...

Hvitserk’s head was not on Ubbe; his little brother, who was shaking badly but still not screaming, had raised his head and was staring at the cloudy sky. It hadn't rained, not today, to Ubbe’s chagrin - but the clouds were still massive in the sky. Hvitserk stared up with his reddish eyes and tears ran down his cheeks. Whether it was from the acrid smoke or out of pure sensation, perhaps out of grief - Ubbe would have given anything to be able to look into his brother's head in these moments of agony.

Ubbe let out a deep breath; he couldn't stand it. His whole body was strained, and although he didn't really want it, he looked over to the other side of the bank; and his eyes quickly found what he wanted to find.

His eldest brother Björn had pulled his mouth in a bad-tempered and angry grimace. His eyes, as blue as his father's, had fixed on the burning Hvitserk as stubbornly as a buck, who had meanwhile made one or two deep, rattling noises that made Ubbe's spine freezing cold.

Ubbe began to pray. With his gaze still fixed on his eldest brother, he prayed to Odin that his older brother would finally give him the sign, the sign of redemption, the bitter end of Ubbe’s and Hvitserk’s torments. It took a few heartbeats for Björn to fix his eyes on Ubbe.

They looked at each other for several moments - and Ubbe felt what his brother was saying in those seconds, only with the strong expression in his eyes. His anger, his grief, his broken heart. Ubbe nodded slightly - he tried to put as much pleading and forgiveness into that nod as he could; showing emotions had never really suited him, but it was high time.

The smell of burnt flesh grew stronger.

There were agonizing seconds in which the brothers looked at each other across the bridge, the burning Hvitserk in the middle. A ray of sun streaked through the cloud cover, blowing up the darkness for a moment - and that ray fell exactly on Hvitserk, who was still staring like a man possessed at the sky above. He was smiling slightly now.

Björn had stopped eye contact with Ubbe for a moment; he frowned at the sun's rays, let his eyes sink down to his burning brother. Ubbe swallowed; he was slowly getting restless. Had Björn changed his mind?

But then Björn caught Ubbe’s gaze again - and he nodded, after what felt like an infinity, he finally nodded. Ubbe felt almost as if he had awakened from a severe fever - there was no time to waste.

With a courageous grip he grabbed his ax from his belt and threw it with all his might into the middle of the boiling trunk to which Hvitserk was tied - and the shackles fell off, while Hvitserk, as if paralyzed, simply remained silent and motionless fell into the water.

Ubbe didn't think about it during those seconds - he just worked. With a dive he slipped into the ice-cold water and dived a few meters; he found his brother quickly, closed his hand around his arm and pulled him with him to the surface, where the people turned and whispered with excitement.

It took a moment before Ubbe was able to heave his little brother soaking wet onto the jetty; he let Björn help him, who grabbed Hvitserk directly and mercilessly by the collar and pressed him to the floor. He didn't even let him breathe for a second.

Ubbe pulled his own wet body out of the water and rubbed his beard; his eyes fixed on the water. He knew what was to come anyway. The drops of his wet clothes splashed softly into the water, distorting his reflection.

“You thought you deserved a wonderful death, didn't you, my brother? Thought you were coming to Valhalla to dine and celebrate with our father, huh? Never... I will not give you an honorable death!! You will suffer, live outcast in the wilderness... and your name will be wiped out before this winter, just like your body and mind... no sacred halls!!" Björn’s voice echoed through the whole area; there was no doubt about what he had made his younger brother do. What a burden he had put on him...

Ubbe ran his fingers through his long braid and looked down at Björn and Hvitserk next to him; Hvitserk didn't say a word. He was still snorting slightly, still water gushing out of his lungs. Björn hit Hvitserk hard in the face before he got up with an angry snort and walked away. As he passed Ubbe, Ubbe felt a light kick on his back. He had almost expected it - but at least his brother had heard his request.

As the crowd slowly thinned out, Ubbe slipped over to Hvitserk and brushed the hair off his face. The bloodshot eyes looked at him questioningly, confused, desperate.

Ubbe let out a slight gasp; he pulled Hvitserk closer to him, pressed his forehead against Hvitserk’s. The water still ran into both of their faces, but it didn't bother Ubbe. It was important that the body under him was still breathing.

“It's all good, it's better that way. Hvitserk, I… “, Ubbe began, but Hvitserk just gasped and slipped away slightly. He looked at Ubbe with an expression he couldn't quite identify. Was it hurt? Anger?

“I was ready, Ubbe. I wanted to go... Now I'm never going to Valhalla.” His voice was hoarse, as if scratched by the fire. With one push he wanted to push Ubbe away from him, but Ubbe stood firm. He closed his hand around Hvitserk’s wrist and pulled him closer again.

“You will still come to Valhalla. I promise you."

“I have been banished! How do you imagine that?”, Hvitserk shouted; Ubbe started, shrank back; Hvitserk’s voice was firmer than expected. And as if that wasn't enough, he now stood up, swaying and wanted to head towards the village.

But Ubbe was faster; he grabbed his still debilitated brother with an angry snort and tossed him over his shoulder; he only knew one place where they could go now…

* * *


	2. The taste of rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the story is structured a little differently than the others. There are various leaps in time, and each past is viewed from both sides - one time Ubbe's, one time Hvitserks. If you don't like it at all, feel free to tell me! But I thought maybe it would be really exciting to see different scenes from different angles. And to see different situations from the past mixed with the present.   
> Today it's Ubbe's POV again. Have fun! <3

* * *

***** a few years earlier, just before midsummer night *****

**\--- Ubbe ---**

"You shoot too far to the right, that was bad," Ubbe’s voice uttered unrecognizable over to Hvitserk; the young Viking looked at his older brother with his mouth slightly open and snorted.

It was almost dark; the trees cast gloomy shadows on the clearing, and all day it looked as if it was going to rain towards evening. Hvitserk looked over at the target made of light, rough wood; he didn't think that his arrow had drifted too far to the right - but one could say what one wanted, Ubbe always had a mind of his own when he trained. With a low sigh, Hvitserk turned away from the target and leaned exhausted against an old oak tree.

They'd been out here all day, four of them training over and over again; with bow and arrow, ax and sword. Ivar had been set on a tree stump by them; he was still unable to move around properly with his crippled legs. His eyes kept going from brother to brother; Ubbe had noticed that he mostly watched Sigurd in particular, and he knew exactly why: the two hated each other profoundly. Ubbe paused a moment with Ivar; he could see the little frown line between his eyebrows, and with a bold swing Ubbe slapped him on the shoulder. Ivar looked up at him, curious, though the anger didn't fade from his forehead.

"If you want to, we can practice sword fighting again," he said with a grin; Ivar nodded and reached next to him, where he had put his wrought iron sword. Ubbe let out a snort and reached into his belt to be ready to attack with his sword.

It started right away; Ubbe attacked Ivar without thinking. He was used to Ivar only getting really good when someone attacked him unexpectedly; and that is exactly what Ubbe did. He had never been able to complain about Ivar’s sword skills; despite his handicap, Ivar was, just like his other brothers, a genius fighter. Maybe even a little more tactically smarter than them.

“That's good!” Ubbe just barely fended off a skillful swipe from Ivar; he picked up the momentum created by dodging and almost hit Ivar on the ribs with one targeted blow. Ivar’s eyes glowed; the blue literally burned, and Ubbe lowered his sword.

“You have to make the most of your momentum, Ivar. Never leave your sides uncontrolled, because a blow in the ribs or the side... ", he hit Ivar lightly in the side with his fist, while Ivar just let out some angry breath; "... is always a deadly one."

"Björn once survived one.", Ivar said; he put his sword excitedly next to him again and stared curiously at Ubbe, who only let out a laugh.

“What do you think, Ivar, where did he get his name from? Bjorn ironside? Is it ringing there?"

With a satisfied grin, Ubbe turned back to the others; Hvitserk was still leaning against the old oak tree, watching Ubbe and Ivar suspiciously. Ubbe caught his eye - Hvitserk didn't look happy, but he had also been very bad at shooting today. As if he couldn't concentrate, as if he was distracted by something. Or, thought Ubbe, or his thoughts went back to the women from Kattegat.

Because actually Hvitserk shot even better than Sigurd.

"Take another five shots, Hvitserk." Ubbe said curtly and turned to the target; behind him he heard the restless rustling of someone leaning on the tree. A drop of rain fell light and cool on Ubbe’s neck; the sky would finally darken. A little wind came up and the first drop was followed by several.

“I don't feel like shooting in the rain. I'm done.” Something about Hvitserk’s voice bothered Ubbe; it was snotty, almost grumpy. With a raised eyebrow, Ubbe turned to him. Hvitserk stood only six feet away, bit his lower lip while giving Ubbe a challenging look. Sigurd just snarled.

“It's going to start raining anyway, let him. He's shooting like a cripple anyway.”, Sigurd chuckled; Ivar shifted back and forth on his tree stump and turned his blue eyes to Sigurd.

“Like a cripple? I shoot better than you, bastard. See! I shot the damn deer in the eye! Not even Ubbe managed that."

Ubbe took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest - there was always a point in the day, exactly one point in time when Sigurd and Ivar started arguing. Mostly it was Ivar who provoked; that today's mud fight was instigated by Sigurd seldom happened; Ubbe scratched his beard and nodded to Ivar.

“You go ahead. I'll show ‘Hvitserk something else."

Hvitserk stared blankly at Ubbe; his eyes were contorted and when Ubbe looked down at him he could see a clenched fist. Whatever it was, something was wrong here.

"Do what you want, you birds," Sigurd grumbled. He packed up his things and left without paying any attention to Ivar. The latter slid slowly down from the trunk and pulled his sword with him. When he turned to his two brothers again with both arms supported, he said, “You can use my arrows. But only if you score this time too, Hvitserk."

Hvitserk didn't say anything; he glared at Ivar with a deadly look, before Ivar laughed and pulled himself through the wetter sandy soil and shuffled softly away; Ubbe watched him go. He got strange at the thought that Ivar always reminded him of a big, dark snake when he crawled around in the mud. But Ivar was never to be joked with; he was just too ruthless.

Ubbe sniffed briefly and then turned back to Hvitserk, who still hadn't moved a meter. The rain had gotten a little heavier; Hvitserk’s dark blue linen shirt already had some dark, wet spots, and the leather on his arms glistened damp. He didn't look at Ubbe; he was still staring at the spot where Ivar had just disappeared.

"Come on, you can still do one more lap. You shot poorly today. Or is something wrong with you?”, Ubbe said shortly; he knew that he usually didn't talk with Hvitserk like that, but today it was somehow not quite right between them, especially since Hvitserk had hardly exchanged a word when he usually spoke like a waterfall.

Hvitserk raised his eyes and looked at Ubbe; his eyes literally smirked, and his mouth was not drawn very gently. He took a step towards Ubbe, who only looked sternly at his little brother. When Hvitserk was so close that Ubbe could smell him, Hvitserk licked his lips briefly.

"I will not shoot anymore."

“You shoot. You shot worse than ever today... I didn't go out here with you so you could demonstrate your failure." Ubbe’s voice became rough; Hvitserk let out an amused snort and tore the bow from Ubbe's hands, which he had previously picked up and held out to Hvitserk.

"You will see.", Hvitserk hissed; Ubbe crossed his arms over his chest and pulled his eyebrows together slightly. The rain grew heavier; meanwhile, Ubbe could also feel his shirt getting wet all the time. The rain was cold.

Hvitserk took a deep breath and hooked an arrow into his bow; he stood upright and closed one eye. Ubbe could clearly see that Hvitserk had over spanned his arm; a slight tremor went through the arch, which Hvitserk consciously tried to suppress. But when the arrow took off with some force, it didn't even begin to land in the middle.

Ubbe stared at Hvitserk, who was now biting his lower lip harder; he could see from the rising blush on his cheeks that his little brother was about to burst into anger. But he didn't let him dance around either. No way.

“That was even worse than before. Even a shieldmaiden hits better than you."

Hvitserk gave a dark laugh; he lowered his bow and turned in the direction of Ubbe, who had still folded his arms.

“You know what, Ubbe? Bite me. I go. You treat me like dirt anyway!"

"Like dirt? You call that like dirt?"

Ubbe stood in front of Hvitserk; the rain pelted down on both of them, wet their hair and faces; the two stared at each other, and Ubbe saw a frown line on Hvitserk’s forehead.

"Yes, like dirt! All the time! You always want to be the best one... Even Ivar, that dumb crippled idiot… you praise him more than me! I'm fed up of being treated like that by you.”, Hvitserk hissed; he threw the bow at Ubbe’s feet with one hard movement. Ubbe only followed the arch with his gaze for a moment before examining Hvitserk again with rising anger. Hvitserk was breathing heavily; it almost sounded like he'd run.

"Pick up the bow again."

"I don't give a shit."

"You pick up the bow right now, Hvitserk, or we'll both have a problem."

Hvitserk snorted; he took a quick look at the floor, but then looked for Ubbe’s eyes again. He shook his head. The rain was now so heavy that the two were dripping wet.

Ubbe stared furiously at Hvitserk for a moment; then he bent down and picked up the bow. When he was at eye level again, he said curtly: “You won't come with us next time. And now see that you go somewhere else. I cannot stand your face right now."

He turned to go; just crazy, this day. While his other brothers had been relatively humane, Hvitserk was just weird today. He had just taken two steps through the thickening mud when he heard a low voice.

"Fuck off, you bastard."

It took less than two seconds for Ubbe to throw his bow in the mud and storm towards his brother with heavy steps. With a firm and courageous grip, he grabbed Hvitserk by the chin, with his thumb and forefinger; he dug his fingers so deep into his skin that Hvitserk let out a low, surprised gasp.

"What did you just say?! Tell me what's wrong with you! First you shoot poorly, then this! I think someone should give you a punch again, as naughty as you are! Don't waste my fucking time…”, Ubbe hissed angrily; Hvitserk’s expression had changed in the meantime. His eyes looked desperate somehow; Ubbe released the grip of his hands around Hvitserk’s face and took his hand from his face.

The rain was so heavy now that Hvitserk began to tremble; and Ubbe could also feel that it was getting colder. He was about to turn to go when a firm grip grabbed his wrist. Ubbe looked at Hvitserk again; the blue eyes met for a few moments – when suddenly, Ubbe could clearly sense that something was happening between them. It was a strange feeling; Ubbe’s neck began to tingle and he felt his breath catch a little.

And when he was about to ask what was going on again, he could already feel the pressing pressure of wet and cold lips on his. It was a hectic, downright biting kiss; Ubbe stiffened. It felt like all of his guts were slipping into his feet; all feeling from his fingers disappeared, and from his face aswell. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't move an inch. Hvitserk let out a nervous sigh; he licked his lips briefly and clasped his hands in Ubbe’s shirt, just above his sternum. He was trembling badly and started fumbling with one of Ubbe’s buttons as if he was nervous.

Ubbe was still staring at him as if he was out of his mind: all warmth had drained from his body and he could not say a single word. He began to wonder if he had just dreamed it; until Hvitserk let out a quiet, nervous laugh while just staring at Ubbe’s button on his chest.

"I'm sorry, I... - I wasn't quite in state of my mind." Hvitserk almost whispered these words, and suddenly he let go of Ubbe and began to run. Ubbe watched him go until he was gone; stared at the muddy footprints his little brother had left in the ground.

It was only when the rain got so heavy that one could soon no longer see your own hand that Ubbe picked up the bow from the ground and threw it over his shoulder; he was glad that no one met him on the way home.

* * *


	3. The rainmaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's one of the chapters I've been talking about. Same scene, only from Hvitserk's point of view. If you don't like it like that, I can leave it out in the future! ;) Otherwise, after two POVs, there is another scene in the present. Merry Christmas and a wonderful rest of Sunday! <3 Leave me feedback if you want to.

* * *

***** a few years earlier, just before midsummer night *****

**\--- Hvitserk ----**

Hvitserk gasped violently; he had run too fast. With a slight sigh, he leaned against the gnarled bark of a large tree and tried to get rid of the dizziness a little.

"Shit, shit, shit..."

He uttered these words curtly; he could hear for himself how fragile his voice was, how desperate it sounded in the rain and darkness. He felt dizzy and, with a slight mechanical movement, put both hands on his thighs. Something hot was gathering on the edge of his eyelids, but he didn't want those feelings to come up. Not now, when he didn't know what to do with himself anyway.

The surrounding air was now so cool that Hvitserk’s mouth let out light steam, and the rain continued to pour down on him without stopping. He was already so wet that one could have thought that he had fallen headlong into one of the lakes.

With a low whimper, Hvitserk pushed himself up with his hands and pressed his back against the sharp-edged bark of the tree. He couldn't believe what he'd just done there; and immediately the images shot back to his head. Still breathing hard, he closed his eyes.

It had been a relatively relaxed day, and he had actually been looking forward to the day with his brothers for some time. He loved practicing skill and combat with others, and most of all he loved archery. Of his brothers, he was almost the best at it.

But that night before that day he had had a terribly disturbing dream. In principle, it wasn't really terrible - he hadn't dreamed of grimaces or bad people. And yet he was so confused after waking up, that he couldn't go back to sleep that day either.

In the dream, he had seen his big brother Ubbe, and not just seen. He remembered his laugh, his beautiful teeth in the dark... and warm lips that had kissed him over and over again. Hands clinging to his shoulders and the wonderful weight of his brother over him...

So, it was no wonder why Hvitserk was walking around more than confused and in a bad mood that day. His brothers seemed to notice - more or less. Because as it turned out, he shot so phenomenally badly that day that even the otherwise dear Ubbe dropped a few tough words.

Hvitserk shouldered his bow and looked at Ubbe with mixed feelings. He'd shot badly, of course, and he sometimes wished Ubbe knew that he was the cause of these misconduct. But of course, he didn't. Ubbe challenged Ivar to another fight while Hvitserk leaned against a tree with furrowed eyebrows.

It had bothered him for a while, all of this. It bothered him to see his brothers arguing, and most of all it bothered him that he didn't seem to be on good terms with Ubbe at the moment. He had noticed it in the summer, when he had noticed for the first time that he was targeting Ubbe too often. When swimming in the lake, for example. He couldn't take his eyes off the wet and laughing Ubbe for a second. Ubbe was just too much like his father - he was proud, well built, and had the same eyes, just maybe a touch warmer than their father's. And he was kind.

Hvitserk liked people with a soft heart, he always had. It bothered him all the more when he saw the grinning Ubbe now fighting with Ivar. The movements of the two were coordinated and firm, and yet Ubbe was the one to win.

"That's good.", his voice sounded over to him, and Hvitserk sniffed lightly. Something boiled up inside him that he couldn't place. He leaned the bow he still clutched against the tree.

More and more drops fell from the sky; meanwhile it really started to rain. He wondered why he was still here. Somehow, he couldn't stand the sight of Ubbe today, not after this disturbing dream.

_Brothers don't do that_. After all, there were enough good women out there who let themselves be stolen without resistance.

"Do another five shots, Hvitserk."

Hvitserk lifted his head and looked over at Ubbe, who had turned to him; there was something severe in his gaze. For a moment Hvitserk did not move; he felt dizzy. Somehow depressed. And in some way, he could feel anger, although he rarely did.

It was only with extreme reluctance that Hvitserk pushed away from the tree and stopped two good paces from Ubbe. The rain was cold and the fact that his shirt was already getting wet bothered him. When he took a deep breath, he could smell Ubbe. The smell was so familiar….

“I don't feel like shooting in the rain. I'm done.“, Hvitserk grumbled and looked challengingly into his brother's eyes. He would do a devil and keep making a fool of himself, not today. And certainly not in front of Ubbe. Ubbe’s blue eyes were fixed on him, and from the small wrinkle on his forehead, Hvitserk knew very well that he was thinking about something.

A slight tremor went through Hvitserk's body - and he knew it wasn't from the rain. It was wet, but by no means cold. To suppress a sigh, he chewed lightly on his lower lip. It already felt quite swollen because he had made this movement several times today; but he still tasted no blood.

“It's going to start raining anyway, so let him go. He shoots like a cripple anyway.” Hvitserk only looked briefly at Sigurd; it looked so like him to utter another crude line. The main thing was that he could butter others down. A slight wave of anger ran through Hvitserk's body so sharply that he almost gave himself away with a tremor.

He didn't really notice the argument between Sigurd and Ivar, and he didn't want to. He didn't really want to hear anything anymore. Neither from Ubbe, nor from Ivar, nor from Sigurd. Sitting alone in front of the fire, that would be something... He stared at the spot where his brothers had previously disappeared in the shallow rain.

Only when Ubbe spoke to him again did Hvitserk raise his head; didn't Ubbe see that he didn't feel like shooting? That he was just completely and absolutely off the track? But there was nothing there except a thoughtful and stern look.

He didn't know where his sudden anger was coming from. But his whole body screamed to finally be able to freak out, to finally be able to scream. Hvitserk slowly formed his hand into a fist; it was good to put all the inner pressure on his flesh instead of his words. He even dared to go so close to Ubbe that he could clearly perceive the intense smell of him. Mixed with the rain it was like an ordeal for Hvitserk.

"I won't shoot anymore today."

“You shoot. You shot as badly today as never before... I didn't go out here with you so you could demonstrate your failure." Ubbe's voice had hardened. Ubbe had actually never been like that to him, but what good was it? He couldn't fight back all the time.

He let out an amused snort and yanked the bow from Ubbe's hands, coarser than he really wanted. Goosebumps ran down his back when he felt Ubbe’s cold fingers for a brief moment; a strange feeling. He had always been able to touch Ubbe without any problems, and they had always been very close. But today it almost killed him.

"You'll see," he hissed, standing on the firing position. In these moments he really tried to bring all his inner strength to bear and not to turn his confused inside out; but when Hvitserk drew the bow and pulled it backwards, he noticed for himself that he was putting too much of a good thing into this otherwise so simple movement. He had spanned far too far; but he also wanted to get out of this situation. So, he closed one eye and fixed the center of the target. When the arrow finally took off, he could feel Ubbe’s proximity like a tingling sensation in the neck, right behind him.

For a brief moment he closed his eyes tightly. He felt exactly how a torrent of great heat rose in his cheeks and made him shake inside; and Ubbe seemed to notice that the next time he opened his mouth:

“That was even worse than before. Even shieldmaiden hit better than you!"

Hvitserk was hit harder by this saying than expected; he couldn't tell whether it was his condition or not, but with a rough feeling of anger in his stomach he turned to Ubbe, who still had his arms crossed. The rain had speckled his face and he looked a little desolate. But Hvitserk actually liked that very much. He also liked Ubbe when he came out of a battle, dirty and bleeding, smelling of battle. This tight and strong familiarity... But right now, there was nothing between them but anger. He let out a bitter laugh that stung his throat.

“You know what, Ubbe? Bite me. I go. You treat me like dirt anyway!"

"Like dirt? You call that dirt?"

Ubbe’s voice had fallen into his extremely rough tone; he was still standing firmly facing Hvitserk, staring at him with a mixture of incomprehension and anger. Hvitserk felt his own brow furrow.

He didn't want anything like getting out of here. Because a feeling crept into his body in these moments - longing.

"Yes, how dirt! All the time! You always want to be the best... Even Ivar, that crawling idiot, you praise more than me! I'm fed up with being treated like that by you.”, Hvitserk had uttered the words so hissed that he almost sounded like Ivar when he was angry. But he couldn't help it. Everything in this situation suffocated him. Made him blind.

Blind with despair, blind with anger. With a firm movement he threw the bow at Ubbe's feet; his brother glanced at the sheet only briefly before looking at Hvitserk even angrier.

"Pick up the bow."

“I don't do a shit!” A tremor, Hvitserk felt it exactly. And the rain didn't make the situation any better; he was so wet now that the lines stuck to his body.

"You pick up the bow right now, Hvitserk, or we'll both have a problem," Ubbe whispered to him.

Despair arose in Hvitserk, deeply. He didn't know what to do to get out of this uncomfortable situation. He hated arguing with Ubbe; he just couldn't stand the disappointed look in the deep blue eyes. Still, he shook his head with a bite on his lower lip.

Ubbe studied him for a moment; then he bent down and picked up the bow. When their eyes found each other, Hvitserk was hit by the words like a blow of an ax. “You won't come with us next time. And now see that you win some land."

A big lump opened up in Hvitserk’s throat, which took some of his breath away; the feeling of drowning flooded him more and more every second. It almost tore him apart when Ubbe turned on his heel and was about to leave. But what should he do?

The words were spoken before Hvitserk even realized they were in his head: "Fuck you, you bastard."

The stamping of boots through mud became clearer again; Ubbe suddenly grabbed his chin with a firm grip, and his eyes were slightly narrowed with anger. He gripped Hvitserk so tightly and hard that he could feel the pressure on his skin, the nails digging into his skin. Heat. Suddenly it was everywhere.

"What did you just say?! Tell me what the fuck is wrong with you! First you shoot poorly, then this! I think someone should give you a punch again, as naughty as you are! Don't waste my time…”, Ubbe hissed angrily; Hvitserk felt all of his determination seep into the mud within seconds. He didn't know what his eyes were saying to Ubbe, but Ubbe let go of him after a while. Hvitserk could still feel the pressure of his fingers in the flesh.

The rain got heavier. It was now almost like a shallow curtain that slipped between the two; more and more water came down from the sky, and Hvitserk felt himself beginning to tremble again.

When Ubbe was about to leave, he gathered up all his courage and gripped tightly on the wrist of his brother, who turned around and just looked at him in confusion. There was something in the eyes that Hvitserk did not understand; was it understanding? Or was he just as uncomfortable as Hvitserk?

In those seconds he didn't care about anything. His heart almost skipped when he took a small step towards Ubbe, closed his eyes.

When he felt his brother's breath on his lips, he didn't hesitate, not for a second. And he kissed him.

It was a hectic kiss, but Hvitserk couldn't help it. His knees turned into soft twigs that threatened to break, and his heart seemed to be leaping out of his chest. So, there it was... And it felt exactly as Hvitserk had imagined: wet from the rain, and yet as sweet as no other food in the world. So forbidden sweet.

He didn't really get along; he had felt that Ubbe had stiffened completely under the kiss; it was almost like holding his breath.

Hvitserk was getting terribly nervous. He looked at the first thing that came into his eyes; a button on Ubbe’s shirt. His fingertips ran lightly over the intricately carved wood, the little button which, as Hvitserk strangely suddenly remembered, had fallen off once, and Mother had sewn it back on.

The scent of the wet Ubbe made his thoughts wander; he let out a very nervous laugh that didn't seem to come from himself. A drop fell on his fingers, which probably came from Ubbe’s beard.

"I'm sorry, I... - I was quite out of my mind." It was nothing more than a low, hoarse whisper, because Hvitserk’s throat felt as if it was about to tear.

And before Ubbe could say a word, he pushed himself slightly off his brother's stiffened body and ran.

He had never run like this in his life. Not even the worst enemies had fled with such great speed; he had stumbled several times and hit his knee, but what did he care about this little pain?

And now he was standing here in the heavy rain at dusk and didn't know why he had done something so foolish and stupid. His heart was still beating so hard against his chest it hurt - but breathing was a little easier again.

But the seething feeling did not subside, not even the nausea in the stomach about what he had done. It was almost like in his dream; only the reality wasn't so wonderful.

When he pushed himself away from the tree again and ran on, he prayed to the gods that they would watch that Ubbe did not tell anyone - and above all, that he would talk to him after this incident.

* * *


	4. The face of bitterness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey ho and I'm so sorry for the long break, but I will start to slowly update all the stories. :) I hope you enjoy this small chapter! <3

***** Present *****

***** Ubbe *****

Ubbe opened his eyes and ran his hand with a gentle sigh through his hair; his eyes fixed on a point on the ceiling while he lay still for a few moments.

He didn't know why he had dreamed of that moment in the clearing. It hadn't been easy for him back then, the first kiss between them. Much had changed; but much had remained the same between him and Hvitserk. He could still remember exactly how this emotional chaos had felt - heavy and stressful, and yet Ubbe had never harbored a grudge against Hvitserk because of this matter. And a hidden part of him, buried very deep, had felt good. Like the gentle tingling sensation in the neck that hadn't let go of him all night back then.

With a careful movement, Ubbe turned slightly to one side. Hvitserk lay beside him, wrapped in a thick layer of furs, still soundly asleep. Ubbe smiled slightly; yes, so much was easier in sleep, and he would honestly have wished that Hvitserk could continue to sleep so calmly, without worries, without the difficult days that would lie ahead.

Careful not to wake his little brother, he pushed the pelts off Hvitserk's legs and exposed the thick bandages that he had put on especially last night. Slowly he unwrapped the linen bandage, which was partly stained with blood, always being careful not to touch the burned skin too much. Two of his fingers slowly slid onto the heated skin, checking the flesh; but strangely enough, he hadn’t suffered many too serious burns. Ubbe pulled the bandage taut around his legs again when a hoarse voice gave him a slight start.

"You can wake someone up more gently than taking care of ones burned legs in this ungodly time of the day."

Ubbe gave a small laugh; however, he did not look at Hvitserk, but only finished his early first aid.

"It must be. You will need your legs soon.", he said and pulled the fur over Hvitserk’s legs again. Amused pairs of eyes looked at him.

"I thought for a second that it was just a bad dream."

Ubbe took a deep breath and lay down again sensibly next to Hvitserk; with one elbow supported, he leaned his head on the palm of his hand and met his little brother's gaze.

“I'll talk to Bjorn again today. I think he should give you time for your legs to heal properly. You won't be able to walk a meter with them in pain. Unless you want such beautiful crutches like our beloved, lost brother."

“I will never lean on these things. He has haunted my head again anyway…”, Hvitserk mumbled a little tired. When Ubbe just snorted, he gave him a gentle clap on the cheek with the palm of his hand. “Stop making a face like that, Ubbe. I've come to terms with it. And Bjorn won't listen to you... So, don't even ask."

Ubbe stared at the gentle hollow between Hvitserk’s shoulder and collarbone; the skin there had hardly been hit by the raging fire, had no injuries. For a moment Ubbe tried not to remember the sweet taste of this place; too often he had smelled, bitten, loved this spot. It was almost as if this was his own personal hollow. He was safe there. There, worries were far away from him.

“You can't stop me. I can't stop the exile, but I can buy you time."

"Time for what?"

Ubbe opened his mouth, but could not at first say what for. For healing? For themselves? He knew he couldn't cope with the banishment. But should his brother know? Ubbe was wary of that. Not now. Not here.

“Time for your healing, as I just said. You will not be able to walk with your legs.“, Ubbe said shortly; with a mechanical movement he slid towards the edge of the bed and stood up. A slight dizziness hummed in his head even after he took a few steps.

“Are you coming back?” Hvitserk asked softly.

"Well... you can't really run away, and someone has to bring you food."

Ubbe threw his wolfskin around his shoulders and put on his boots; without another word he left the little hut.

After yesterday, Ubbe had only thought of this place, far from the great hall in which Bjorn was enthroned. It was a bit out of the way, hidden by bushy spruce trees that still had their needles in spite of the threatening cold. The walk up here, on the gentle hill, had been an ordeal with Hvitserk yesterday. Not only did the smell of burnt meat not disappear from Ubbe‘s nose, it had also been an effort to carry the water-soaked Hvitserk well and carefully. Although he had not let out any screams of pain, Ubbe had clearly felt the twitching and internal cramping with each step.

And although he was angry with Hvitserk more than anything for his crazy drinking and mushroom addiction, he hadn't been able to leave him there in good conscience. Even now it hurt to think what would have happened if Ubbe hadn't been there. He couldn't have endured a burned body any more than a Hvitserk who had died of exhaustion.

It took a little eternity for Ubbe to get to the large assembly hall. He had no illusions either; he had definitely dawdled. Because he still didn't know how to convey to Bjorn that he wished for more time for Hvitserk. In the meantime, he also knew the dark side of Bjorn, the dark features of his character when it came to blood revenge. And under no circumstances did Ubbe want to anger him more than he already did.

Once in the hall, Ubbe nodded to a maid. He walked heavily toward the raised platform that stood on the left side of the hall and housed two fur-trimmed thrones. And as Ubbe had suspected, Björn was sitting on one of the two with a bitter expression and a goblet of mead. His gaze was transfigured and worn, and before the steel gray eyes met his, Ubbe could perceive deep pain and sadness.

“My brother.” A slight bow followed before Ubbe sat down on the steps in front of Bjorn. Their eyes met, and before Ubbe could say a word, Björn had silenced him with a wave of his hand.

"I know why you are here. But I can't do that. You know very well that he really deserves to die. From this point of view, I'm still quite gracious.” Bjorn grumbled and took a sip from his goblet.

Ubbe stared at his fingers for a while, which were playing with a strip of fine fur; a big lump formed in his throat and he tried to swallow it. But it only burned more, and his answer sounded rather hoarse.

“Please, Bjorn. Just a few days... He can't walk. He won't survive in the wild anyway, especially not with the upcoming winter. I only ask for..."

“You know exactly how sick he is. He killed my mother, and my vengeance is exactly what any son would do. Many would have killed him. Not me…."; Bjorn paused for a moment and stared sadly into his cup; "... I give him a chance at life. He's done enough. He will never be able to come face to face with our father like this, not even in the great arsenic halls... Because he will never get there."

A slight tremor went through Ubbe’s body at these words; he felt exactly how his heart began to beat painfully, wildly, untamed. A part of him would have loved to ram a blade into Bjorn's body, but another part - the logical one - knew that Bjorn was right in his words.

And unfortunately, also in the right to extensive revenge.

He ran his fingers slightly once more over the fur on the steps; it was warm and soft.

"When should he be at the gate?" he asked, croaking softly; the lump in my throat hadn't gone yet.

Bjorn stared at Ubbe for a moment; the gray in the eyes looked pale.

"Tomorrow morning. As soon as the sun rises."

Without another word, Ubbe nodded silently and pressed his hands on the floor to get up again. When he had already taken two steps, he heard Bjorn’s voice again.

“And you won't follow him. Then we both get a problem."

Ubbe did not react except for a brief stop; he didn't even turn around. When it was clear that Bjorn had nothing more to say, he walked past the maid and back outside into the cool air.

Shortly before he got back to the hut, he paused and raised his gaze towards the sky: it looked like rain, possibly even snow; and the clouds let no more sunshine through. The air was already so cold it was almost cutting; or it was just Ubbe’s feeling because the pain in his throat had not yet gone.

When a cool drop hit him on the cheek, he pulled the fur tighter around his shoulders and continued on his way.

So, this was it - the last night with his little brother. Of course, if he could, he would do anything to find Hvitserk in the woods and to be able to take care of him now and then; but he knew the rules. And he also knew the bitter truth about the exile.

With a light, suppressed roar, Ubbe struck his fist against the hard bark of a tree; his knuckles began to bleed easily, but he didn't care.

He didn't know how to get this news to his little brother. A night that wouldn't even begin to make up for their whole life afterward.

One night, a bittersweet black night, and he would be separated from Hvitserk for good. And this time it wasn't voluntary for either of them.


End file.
